Always Scarlett
by aspengold
Summary: This story takes place four months after the end of the book. Do Scarlett and Rhett find each other again? Complete in one post.


The sound of a carriage on Peachtree Street drew Scarlett to her bedroom window. Even in the darkness, she recognized the silhouette and her heart jumped into her throat. Rhett was home. He had kept his promise to return, to keep gossip down, just as he'd told her. In the four months since his abrupt departure, those words had sustained her, kept hope alive. Immediately after that awful night, she had hastily taken herself and her children to Tara, seeking strength and solace. Mammy's arms had comforted her, helped soothe her broken heart, shattered into a million pieces with the deaths of Bonnie and Melly and then Rhett's abandonment. But after a week, Scarlett was uneasy, feeling like an outsider in the home she had fought so hard to save. It was now Sue's and Will's home, not hers. Oh, they had been welcoming and sympathetic, surprisingly so, given Suellen's letter upon hearing of Scarlett's marriage to Frank Kennedy, and the fact that Scarlett never forgave her sister for writing it. The day Scarlett left the depot in Jonesboro, she pulled Will aside.

"Will, take this bank draft, please," she said softly. She saw his jaw tighten and silently cursed male pride. "Will, I have to know that Tara will be safe forever."

"Scarlett, I can take care of things," Will drawled.

"I know that, no one could do a better job. But Will, I have so little left now, and it will kill me if something happens to Tara. Take the money, please, Will, for Pa and Mother. " Her green eyes begged him.

Will studied her face. There had been no violent arguments between his wife and his sister-in-law, both women silently declaring a cease-fire in their lifelong war. Scarlett had been subdued, not telling him how to run things, nor even making suggestions. With the instincts which had always been correct, he accepted the large draft.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett, about everything. Miss Melly was special, and it hurts us to know she's gone. And Bonnie, well, losing a child has got to be the worst thing a person can bear. Reckon you're not bearing it well as you act."

Scarlett breathed a sigh of relief. Of course Will understood, he had always understood. She managed a small smile, took her children's hands, and pecked Will's cheek.

"Take good care of Tara, Will," she said lightly as they boarded the train.

Settling herself between Wade and Ella, she patiently answered Ella's many questions and watched Wade struggle with a thick book of English history. Ever since Rhett's cruel but accurate words about her poor mothering, Scarlett had determinedly forced herself to know her children, her own flesh and blood. Wade had been suspicious, unwilling to open up to her, until they had come to Tara, where one day he had run up to her as she walked in the fields and thrown his arms around her waist.

"I love you, Mother," he said in a choked voice.

Scarlett stroked his curly hair. "I love you, too, Wade. And I promise things will be better."

After that, Wade had spent hours talking with her, hours in which she was surprised to learn her son was very intelligent, well-read for his age, and she cringed. How could she not know her own child? He was also compassionate and kind, two traits even her inflated ego could not claim came from her, but from Melanie and Charles Hamilton.

Ella was silly, as she had decided earlier, but now Scarlett added another hefty load of guilt to her already overflowing arsenal. Her drinking while expecting the child had no doubt affected Ella. In her ignorance, Scarlett had not known not to drink, and the good doctor had not mentioned it, never suspecting Scarlett enjoyed her liquor. Only when she was pregnant with Bonnie had she learned the dangers of drinking while expecting and swore off brandy with a vengeance for the length of her pregnancy. Ella, however, was sweet, even-tempered, and docile, just like her father, Scarlett thought. God, she had tricked Frank into marrying her, hadn't wanted his child, hadn't respected him, but he had been a good man, and Scarlett vowed both Ella and Wade would be accepted by the Old Guard of Atlanta, even she had to crawl on her belly, as Rhett and she had done for Bonnie.

Bonnie. She stared out the window and her eyes misted over. Her harsh words to Rhett returned, words she wished with everything in her that she could take back. For the first time in her life, she recognized the evil within her, and it sickened her.

"_You killed my baby."_

How could she have said it, even in the depths of grief? And she had never apologized. She had never apologized for anything ever in her life, she realized with a start, except to Rhett, that last, awful, devastating night. And it had not swayed his impersonal attitude. She straightened her shoulders. God help her, if it killed her, she would tell him how sorry she was, how wrong she had been placing blame on him. If only he would come back so she could. She ached for his strong arms, his broad chest, his barbs, his mockery, anything but the impersonal kindness he had shown her. If he left her again, and deep down in her heart, she suspected that he would, never to return, gossip or no, at least she would know she had told him how wrong she had been.

"Mother, what does this word mean?" Wade pointed to a word in his book, and Scarlett winced.

"You'll have to wait and ask Uncle Ashley," she said softly. "He's much smarter than I am, you know."

Wade looked up at her seriously. "Not in some ways. You're smarter about the mills."

God's nightgown, she screamed silently, even her son recognized the difference. "That's because I owned them before Uncle Ashley, and learned fast."

Wade gave her a look, so like Rhett's that it took her breath away, but he merely nodded and returned to his book. Ella pointed out the window and chattered on, Scarlett making appropriate responses. Although neither child had been wanted by her, she was their mother, their only parent now that Rhett had gone, and Scarlett had sworn that she would do her best to make up for the years of neglect. Rhett's harsh words about browbeating Wade had cut into her deeply, more so after Melly's death. Melly had loved Wade and Ella as her own, and she owed it to Melly to be a better mother, a better person, even if she lived the rest of her life without Rhett. God, the years of loneliness ahead made her heart ache. How could she survive?

Scarlett ran to the top of the stairs, breathless with anticipation. Rhett was home. She heard the key turn in the lock and he sauntered inside, his arms laden with packages, for Wade and Ella, she knew, the carriage driver bringing in his luggage. She watched as he tipped the man, saw his eyes flit around the house, and her heart clutched. He was looking for Bonnie. Would always be looking for Bonnie.

"Rhett," she breathed. She must have said it more loudly than she realized, because his dark eyes met hers. Scarlett saw the pain before he quickly drew on his impersonal mask.

Rhett's stomach clutched and his heart twisted.

"_Cheer up, maybe you'll have a miscarriage."_

She was standing where she had been that fateful night. If not for his cruel, jibing words, she would never have lost her temper and then her footing, never have nearly died. God damn it, coming here was a mistake, gossip be damned. Being near Scarlett, surrounded by old memories which never died, hearing the emptiness of the house without Bonnie, all were too painful.

Scarlett hurried down the steps and Rhett involuntarily moved toward her, as if to catch her from falling.

She laid a small hand on his arm and looked into eyes he hoped were blank.

"I've missed you," she stated softly. She ached to throw her arms around his neck, feel his comfort and strength, but restrained herself. If he didn't love her, he would at least respect her.

"Indeed?" His tone was mocking. He tossed his hat on a table and headed for the dining room, Scarlett trailing after him. He poured a drink and looked at her, holding the brandy decanter aloft in silent questioning.

"No, thank you, Rhett. I haven't had a drink since." She paused, then squared her shoulders. "Since Bonnie died."

Rhett concealed his surprise. He had been so grief-stricken, spent so much time at Belle's, he hadn't even noticed.

He shrugged. "Joining the Temperance Society is admirable, my pet. But unlike you."

Scarlett longed to lash out at him, scream that liquor could not heal the hole in her heart, only his arms around her could help, but with a new and unexpected clarity born of despair, knew she couldn't, that he would leave before she could talk to him. Really talk, without malice, hate, or recriminations.

Scarlett slipped into a chair and watched him quietly, her mind whirling. God, he was going to be his old mocking self. Well, thank God he wasn't drunk yet.

Rhett sat down next to her and took a sip of his drink.

"How are you and the wooden-headed Mr. Wilkes getting on, now that Miss Melly's dead and I'm gone?" His tone was light and Scarlett looked into his eyes. They were dark and unfathomable, but she felt a stirring of hope. Perhaps, perhaps he was jealous.

Rhett laughed softly when he saw her eyes light up. "Oh, Scarlett, I know you so well. Don't flatter yourself that my question arises from any sense of wounded male pride. I'm merely curious."

She faced him squarely. God damn him for making this so difficult.

"Ashley is existing," she stated.

Rhett lifted an eyebrow. "Existing? I'm shocked, my darling. I didn't think you knew the difference between living and existing."

She dropped her eyes and played with the lace on the sleeve of her dressing gown, then faced him.

"Yes, existing. He reminds me of Pa."

Rhett could not control his surprise nor his laughter. "Come, come, Scarlett, comparing your father and Mr. Wilkes. That's a stretch, even for you."

"It's true," she stated stubbornly. "When Mother died, most of Pa died, too. He, he wasn't himself."

Her mind drifted back to the funeral and to Will's words. "_When she died, his heart did, too, and now his body's joined his heart."_

She hadn't realized that she had spoken the words aloud until Rhett's voice brought her back from the funeral.

"Who said that?" he asked.

"Will, at Pa's funeral. And Ashley's like that now, oh, he's not lost his mind, but he's lost something else, his heart, his desire to live." Scarlett met Rhett's eyes and saw a glimmer in them, a glimmer of something she couldn't identify. Thank heavens he wasn't impersonal right now.

"Well, I wasn't there," Rhett said smoothly, "you were married to old Frank, pregnant, I believe, breaking my heart as you always did." He said it lightly, as if reciting something which had happened to another man, something which did not affect him.

Yes, he thought, breaking my heart. Knowing you were with him, in his arms, allowing him his husbandly right to your body, making me sick with the thought of his hands on you. Then seeing you pregnant, with Frank's child. God, how it had hurt. Scarlett was his, her body meant for him. Odd how it hurt, still, after he had sworn he didn't care. Habit, he supposed, because he had loved her for so many years. He met her green eyes, eyes which he had never forgotten, not even during these past months, despite numerous attempts, numerous women, numerous nights of drinking, seeking oblivion. Her eyes were different, he recognized. Devoid of anger, malice. Eyes he had seldom seen like this in their lives, eyes which were sad and determined at the same time.

"Scarlett, I can tell you have something to say, and I pray it is not a declaration of love. We've been through this, the night I left. You do recall my words?"

"Yes, I recall every word," she said softly. "And that's not what I want to say. I truly am glad you came back, Rhett, because when you leave again, you'll know."

His mouth turned upwards in a smirk. When I leave again. She had accepted it, he thought with relief. Then what was that empty feeling which he felt in his heart? "Know what? That you are filing for divorce? God knows, you have grounds."

She examined his face, but it was the same, inscrutable. He is good at that, she thought.

Scarlett's brows drew together, a sign Rhett recognized as anger. "No, I don't want a divorce, Rhett, I told you that." Her temper flared and the words came out angrily.

"Fie, Mrs. Butler, it would make our lives so much easier. I wouldn't have to come to Atlanta, you could marry Ashley and bring him back to life, and we would all be happy." His tone was mocking once more.

"How you do run on," she observed. "I owe you an apology." She blurted it out before she had a chance to lose her courage, before she lost her temper.

"You? Scarlett, you've never apologized for anything in your life," he laughed.

"That's not true. I apologized to you once before."

Damn those green eyes, he thought. Yes, she had, that last night. And it hadn't changed his decision, although later on, he realized how difficult it had been for her, his stubborn, bull-headed wife, to apologize to him.

He said nothing, watching her.

In a rush of words, Scarlett began to speak. "I said some terrible things to you after Bonnie died. I accused you of killing her, and that was so wrong, Rhett, so evil. I know I'm a cruel person, but that, that was the worst thing I've ever said in my life, and I want you to know I didn't mean it, I don't blame you. It was an accident, a tragic accident. I'm sorry I ever said that. I know you loved her. I loved her, too." She felt her eyes dampen and she quickly got to her feet. "Good night, Rhett." Scarlett slipped from the room before he had a chance to gather his thoughts.

God damn her. Rhett swallowed his brandy and poured another. Of all the scenarios he had played in his mind, coming to Atlanta, this was not one of them. He had thought she would yell, scream, be furious with him, want to know where he'd been, with whom he had shared a bed, but never this, never this sad-eyed woman who refused to fly off the handle at his jabs, who had spoken to him calmly and rationally. And he had been under the illusion that he knew her inside and out. He sighed heavily. Scarlett O'Hara had once more done something to him which no one had done for decades. She had surprised him.

Rhett walked upstairs, forcing his mind not to see Bonnie in every corner of the large house. He passed Scarlett's room and nearly laughed out loud. Her door was wide open. Surely she didn't think he would take her, not after all that had happened. He recalled her soft white skin, her small waist, her perfect body, and felt his desire. Well, desire and love were two different things. He glanced in her room and saw she wasn't inside. God, she better not be waiting in my room, waiting like a spider. Drawing closer to Bonnie's room, he sucked in his breath. This was harder than he had thought, staying in this house, the house Bonnie had ruled with his blessing. As he drew closer, he saw a light come on inside her room. Intrigued despite himself, he moved to the doorway, lounging negligently on the jamb.

Scarlett knew he was there, sensed him, although his tread was as lithe and quiet as ever. She turned up the lamp some more and stood silently, seeing their daughter, hearing her laughter.

Rhett debated continuing to his room, then saw her shoulders begin to shake, and moved to her before he could stop himself.

"Come here," he said gently, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her to him. Damn it. He was falling back into the old patterns, comforting her, holding her, feeling her warmth and softness and curves, and felt his desire.

Scarlett leaned against his chest and slowly the tears stopped. His arms were still so strong, so solid. She felt something in her hair and wondered idly if it were his lips. She looked up at him and saw grief that mirrored her own.

Rhett looked into her eyes and cursed himself for a fool. He had been so completely wrapped in his grief that he had forgotten Scarlett was also grieving. Of course she had loved Bonnie, not as he had, true, no one could do that.

His dark eyes grew tender and he swept her into his arms, carrying her to the large chair where he and Bonnie had spent so many hours reading and talking. Rhett pressed her tightly to his chest. God, it felt good, so good to hold her, to be able to comfort her, help her. Damn it all. He didn't love her anymore. His love had worn out. That's why I'm here, holding her, he thought sarcastically. Because I don't love her.

Scarlett soaked in the warmth of him. If all she could have was tonight, then that would be enough. She had told him how sorry she was, she had not railed at him, cursed, or acted the scorned wife. She was grateful she had not broken down earlier, thankful that she had been able to control herself. Old Miss Fontaine's words came back, words she had said the day of Pa's funeral.

_"We're buckwheat."_

Well, maybe she was. Maybe she could survive. But it would be hard, harder than surviving at Tara after the war, because this time, she was truly alone.

"Scarlett, why are you in here?" His voice was soft and sincere.

She pulled back slightly and looked up at him. Those black eyes. Those eyes were not teasing her. They showed pain and curiosity and maybe, she hoped, maybe admiration.

"I come in here every night before I go to bed," she whispered. "And light the lamp. She was so afraid of the dark." Scarlett leaned back on his chest before his eyes mocked her. She couldn't stand it, not now, not tonight, when he was here, holding her like this.

Rhett's eyes stung and he tightened his hold on her. What a fool he was. What a fool he had been. And so had Scarlett, he told himself honestly. They both had far too much stubborn pride and had hurt each other for so long, it was a miracle they were still standing. He brushed her hair with his lips, and she turned her face to look at him. He had expected to see pain but what he saw made his heart stop. It was love, love in her green eyes and on her face. Love for him.

For years, he had hoped and watched and waited for that look, and seeing it now made the years slip away. She was once more the only woman he had wanted badly enough to wait for, the only one to whom he returned, the only one who mixed lust and love until he couldn't tell the difference.

Rhett's face grew softer and he stroked her face with hands which trembled slightly.

"Scarlett," he murmured. "My love for you wore out, my darling."

Tears formed in her eyes and she resolutely forced them back. She wouldn't, she wouldn't cry, or beg, or grovel. She wanted his admiration, if nothing else, not his pity, dear God, anything but pity.

"At least," he continued, "I thought it had. Until I walked into this monstrosity of a house and saw you on the stairs. And I knew, in spite of everything, that I do love you, Scarlett."

The unexpectedness of his words stunned her into silence and she stared at him, her mouth a small O.

He laughed lightly and kissed her quickly. "My pet, you are speechless."

"You love me?" she repeated parrot-like.

"Now, Scarlett, don't make say it again, just for your vanity." He looked into her hurt eyes and regretted teasing her. "Yes, I love you. I've loved you since that barbecue at Twelve Oaks."

"I love you, Rhett, I love you." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Scarlett, look at me," he said.

She moved herself a few inches from his strength.

"Loving you in the past was very difficult, as you know." He watched her eyebrows slant together in the anger he knew so well. "Now don't get your Irish up, my dear. I'm being honest. If we are to get along, we must have some rules, rather the way duelists have rules."

Duelists? What the devil was he talking about? She loved him, he loved her. When did guns enter the conversation?

Seeing her anger and confusion, he smoothed her forehead. "Scarlett, I am too old for the constant warfare we are so adept at using. I propose that we stop fighting and attempt to talk as civilized people. No yelling, no bitterness, no cruel comments."

She scowled at him. "I recall you have also said many cruel things to me, Rhett. That rule has to apply to you as well as me."

"_Maybe you'll have a miscarriage_."

"Of course it applies to me. I said we," he answered in a tight voice, one which caused Scarlett to reach a hand to his face.

He set her on her feet and kissed her forehead. "Now go to bed like a good girl. We'll talk about this tomorrow. I believe that is one of your favorite expressions."

Rhett's hand was firmly on her arm and he led her from Bonnie's room.

"But Rhett," she began fretfully. She wanted him, she needed him, and he was going to sleep in another room. After declaring his love for her.

Rhett saw the frustration on her face and grasped her to him. "I know you don't understand. And it's impossible to explain because I don't understand it all myself. But I do love you, Scarlett." He kissed her lips gently, forced himself to turn around, and not look back.

He poured himself a drink and sank into a chair, staring out the window, seeing Scarlett, always Scarlett. Surrounded by men at the barbecue, smiling with happiness at the bazaar when he led her in the Virginia Reel, cursing him when he left her on the road to Tara, offering to become his mistress in exchange for the tax money for Tara, crying in his arms after a nightmare, sighing next to him in bed after making love. She was part of him, and he'd once more proven himself to be a fool where she was concerned. But as he had told her the night he left, he couldn't live with her and lie to her. And he couldn't lie to himself. He did love her, God help him, and he always would. There was no reason to lie about it. And, he recognized, he didn't want to live without her. Couldn't live without her.

His decision to forego her bed tonight puzzled him. At the time, he had some notion that they needed time to heal, to recover from the years of insults and cruelty, to mourn for Bonnie, before he claimed her. Rhett poured another drink and scowled. He had made yet another mistake. In order to heal, they needed one another, they needed intimacy and commitment and closeness to soothe their souls. He knew Scarlett, and knew she was probably crying in her pillow right now. Rhett set the full glass down and opened his door.

Scarlett's door was closed but opened easily when he silently turned the knob. He paused and adjusted his eyes to the darkness. She wasn't crying into her pillow, as he was so sure she would be. Scarlett was seated in a chair, looking out the window, her feet curled beneath her. He drew a breath, and she heard him then.

Scarlett turned and met his eyes, all of the love she possessed shining in them. But she stayed in the chair. She couldn't risk his mockery, his teasing. What if he had come merely to torment her? No, she would not move until he did.

Rhett examined her and saw her jaw tighten. She was suspicious of him. It was written plainly on her pale face, and with good reason. In three panther-like treads, he was in front of her and pulled her to her feet. His arms encircled her waist and his lips found hers. He felt her tremble and tightened his hold on her. There was only Scarlett, his anchor, his haven, and he was drowning in her love.

Scarlett trembled with each kiss, each caress. Rhett's lovemaking was different, almost reverent in its gentleness. They murmured of their love, their commitment, their desire, their hopes, throughout the night and well into the morning. When finally, exhausted, they held one another before drifting to sleep, Rhett leaned over his wife and stroked her damp black hair.

"I love you, Scarlett," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled up at him and reached a hand to his face.

"And I love you," she replied. Scarlett sighed and snuggled closer to him. This was what she wanted, needed. Rhett's arms around her, his love covering her like a quilt.

He tightened his hold on her, and kissed her head. Yes, his love had worn out. For all of an hour, he estimated. Rhett gazed at his sleeping wife and knew their love would heal them. He had no illusions that their life would be instantly perfect, but thank God, he had the sense to recognize that the two of them belonged together and that together, they could make each other whole. Rhett stroked her back and knew she was already pregnant. Another child to love, conceived in love. The thought made him joyous and sad at the same time. No child could take Bonnie's place, but. But another baby.

"Scarlett," he said into her ear.

She moaned and opened her eyes.

"My pet, I have a question." His eyes were slightly teasing.

"What?" she managed to say, still dazed and sated from lovemaking.

"How soon will you know if you're pregnant?" Rhett's eyes turned serious and she felt her mouth open in surprise.

Scarlett blushed at his question, and he laughed at her.

"Still the modest one, aren't you? Well, answer me."

She ducked her head. "Two weeks," she whispered.

Rhett kissed her gently. A deep calmness settled on him, the calmness born of certainty that he loved and was loved in return, and that out of that love, a child had been formed.

"My dear, you will need to see Dr. Meade in about two weeks." He shifted her slightly so that he could see her eyes. They were damp and joyous and surprised.

"I hope so, Rhett, I hope so." She reached up and kissed him, then settled back on his chest.

He laughed happily, the laughter of a man at peace with himself for the first time in many years. "My dear, I know so."


End file.
